


...And a Hydra New Year!

by ineswrites



Series: ...And a Hydra New Year! [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Second Kiss, if it's tradition it's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13218858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineswrites/pseuds/ineswrites
Summary: “A masquerade,” Jack says with one eyebrow raised. “You got your costume ready?”“I ain’t going.”He knew the moment he got called in four days ago. A mission without Jack means twice as much stress and sleep deprivation. There’s no way he’s in a right state to attend a party tonight.





	...And a Hydra New Year!

Jack waits on the airstrip, smoking a cigarette. There’s an impressive pile of cigarette butts at his feet, though they aren’t late. Brock would say they’re earlier than expected.

He gets off the quinjet when the rest of the team is still gathering their stuff and doing last minute patch ups. Jack was home when they got called in on a mission, so Brock had to replace him with someone else. He took Martin and paired him up with Westfahl. It was glorious. Jack would have had a good laugh out of it.

Jack perks up when Brock approaches him. He drops the cigarette, momentarily losing interest in it as his eyes crawl over Brock, assessing the damage. Brock looks alright though; he’s only sporting a bump on his head from when he was knocked out by some kind of gas that hasn’t yet left his system judging from how sleepy he is.

“Had to eat all the muffins,” Jack says, skipping the hello. He deems greetings unnecessary. “Or they’d stale.”

Brock sighs. “Story of my life.”

“Some things never change. Aunt Pippa always asks when I finally get married and you never get your muffins. The magic of Christmas.”

Jack takes his cigarettes out of his pocket. There’s only one remaining in the pack.

“Hey, Jack, good to see you.”

They look up; Collins approaches them, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“You got the New Year’s Eve party invitation?” Collins asks Jack, who only nods. “Good. See you there.”

He walks away, his gait spring, almost skipping. Brock shakes his head at him. They’re all tired after four days working in a desert, but Collins is a hedonist; he’s more likely to skip a mission than a party.

“A masquerade,” Jack says with one eyebrow raised. “You got your costume ready?”

“I ain’t going.”

He knew the moment he got called in four days ago. A mission without Jack means twice as much stress and sleep deprivation. There’s no way he’s in a right state to attend a party tonight.

“You got other plans?”

“Yeah, sleep.” He moves past Jack towards the parking lot. He should deposit his gear, but as a commanding officer, he gets to bend the rules sometimes.

Jack follows him, putting his cigarettes back in his pocket. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

Brock shrugs. “Maybe I’ll get up at midnight, have a glass of champagne and get back to sleep, if the neighbors allow.”

He doesn’t tell him he’s so dizzy from the gas still, he’s afraid he’ll pass out any second. He doesn’t want Jack to go into Team Mom mode.

“Want a lift?”

Brock doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to; it’s an unspoken rule Jack always drives him home after a mission. That’s the sole reason he’s even here—with whole Alpha away, there’s no need for him to hang around the Trisk. Especially not on the airstrip.

Brock rests his head against the window as soon as he buckles up.

“How was home?” he asks to keep up appearances. Jack doesn’t mind the silence, but it’d alarm him if Brock remained quiet.

“You know how it was,” Jack replies, his eyes never leaving the road. “You called me.”

“I mighta been drunk.”

“Figures. Why else would you call?”

The conversation dies after that. Jack dislikes to repeat himself, so he doesn’t answer the question, and frankly, Brock doesn’t care. He closes his eyes and he must slip out of consciousness, because when he opens them again, Jack's already parking in front of his apartment block.

“Mind if I get in for coffee?” he asks as he kills the engine. “I don’t have five dollars to spare for a fucking Starbucks.”

Brock nods. He knows Jack’s wallet is always thin after Christmas. He has a big family, and that means a lot of money spent on gifts.

“But I’m going straight to bed,” he warns.

Jack shrugs. “I know how to use your coffee machine, I don’t need your supervision.”

 

*

 

Brock’s woken up by fireworks, but when he checks the time, it’s still four minutes to midnight. He pulls himself up to use the bathroom, but when he exits the bedroom, he freezes at the sight of Jack occupying his couch, watching the TV. Jack stands up as soon as he notices him, swiping two glasses filled with champagne from the coffee table.

“Didn’t wanna leave the door unlocked,” he mutters as Brock approaches him slowly. “Bought some groceries, your fridge was pitiful.”

“But… The masquerade…” Brock accepts the glass Jack shoves into his hand, wondering if he’s still asleep and dreaming all this up.

“Never said I was attending.” Jack points with his glass at the balcony door. “You’re up just in time for fireworks. Wanna go look?”

They pull on their parkas and go out on the balcony. The dark sky is painted with colorful sparks, mostly green and red and golden. Brock watches them for a moment before he looks down at the smoke covered street where a group of people stands. He notices a couple making out.

“Ten,” Jack says, looking at his watch. “Nine…”

He throws Brock a sideways glance and follows his line of sight. He nods at the couple. “It’s tradition.”

“Is it now?” Brock asks.

“Yeah. I mean, for coup—”

Brock doesn’t let Jack finish; he yanks him down to press their mouths together to the sound of fireworks exploding, a different kind of fireworks flashing colors beneath his closed eyelids. Echoes of yelled “Happy New Year!” reach them over the explosions, and Brock lets go, licking his lips to chase the lingering taste of cigarettes.

“Happy New Year,” he says, smirking smugly at Jack’s wide-eyed look.

Jack blinks, shakes his head, and downs his glass of champagne.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> 2017 was good to me and ao3 was a big part of it. I spent the whole year writing and sharing my work with you. Reading your comments brought me a lot of joy. Thank you all, especially the ones who've been hanging with me both here and on tumblr since the first months of the year! Here's hoping 2018 will be just as good!


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